


Deadly Secrets

by katzaren



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Male Character, Coming Out, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Making Out, Past Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, The Whittemores are a family of assassins, Werewolves, takes place during season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 07:13:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12699960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katzaren/pseuds/katzaren
Summary: Jackson’s first mission as an assassin is to kill Scott McCall. Except he’s having a hard time figuring out why anyone would want someone as stupid and naïve as him dead. To find out the truth, he starts getting closer to McCall, but he has to be careful because the worst mistake an assassin can make is falling for their target...





	Deadly Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place during Season 1, but it doesn't follow the events of Season 1 exactly. The Argents find out about Scott a lot sooner. Jackson and Lydia have already broken up. And Jackson's parents are both assassins.
> 
> Written for Scackson Week 2017 | Enjoy this wild ride~

Jackson had been trying for two weeks to get close enough to Scott McCall to complete his mission, but it was so damn difficult. Not that McCall wasn’t nice enough to accept a new friend—in fact, he was too nice. It was more that Jackson couldn’t keep his snide comments to himself.

McCall was scrawny, terrible at lacrosse, and damn naïve. At first, Jackson thought he’d been put on the hit list by mistake—he still did sometimes—but now he thought maybe he’d been put there for being so hopelessly stupid. That didn’t make any sense, of course. Only dangerous people made the hit list. It was a wonder how anyone thought McCall was dangerous.

Okay, so McCall had gotten a lot better at lacrosse in the past month. He was clearly on something—steroids no doubt. But you didn’t put someone on a hit list just for being on steroids.

Jackson asked his parents one more time if they knew any details, but in typical assassin style, they exchanged a look, then changed the topic. Clearly, they were hiding something.

“Look, it’s exciting that you’ve put me on my first mission and all, but do you really expect me to kill this guy without knowing why?” Jackson grabbed an apple from the fridge and leaned over the kitchen counter, giving his mother an expectant look.

“That’s not how this works,” his mom said. “Someone puts a name on the list, and we get paid to take care of it.”

“But what if he was put on there by mistake?” Jackson took a bite of the apple.

“The Argents do not make mistakes.”

Jackson nearly choked. “The Argents put out the hit?”

“Yes.” His mom pursed her lips. “Does that mean anything to you?”

“Well, no, but McCall’s been hanging out with Allison Argent a lot lately.”

His mother snatched the apple out of his hand as he was poised to take another bite and slammed it onto the counter. “Then you’d better hurry and kill him. Before she gets to him.”

The smashed apple rolled across the counter as his mother left the room.

Jackson shivered. He hated when his parents were disappointed in him. As an adopted child, he wanted nothing more than to please them.

That was it. He needed to step up his game. Pretend to be nice to McCall. Maybe he could get his ex-girlfriend Lydia to distract Allison for a while. That might give him the chance to speak to McCall alone.

\---

Jackson ended up inviting McCall out for tacos after lacrosse practice. Surprisingly, McCall said yes and seemed eager to go with Jackson. Too naïve. Jackson had a feeling he could invite McCall to his house, drag him into the basement, and McCall wouldn’t catch on until he had a bag around his head.

They reached Jackson’s shiny silver Porsche, and Jackson touched the button to unlock it. He slid into the driver’s seat and tapped the steering wheel impatiently as McCall scrambled into the passenger seat.

McCall ran his hands along the leather seats. “This is really nice,” he commented.

“Right? She’s a beauty.” Jackson smiled smugly, his chest swelling with pride. He’d picked out the car himself, a gift from his parents on his sixteenth birthday.

“So, I meant to tell you. I think it’s really nice what you’re doing for Allison.”

Jackson shifted the car into drive, but paused when he registered McCall’s words. “What?”

“Well, Allison doesn’t have a lot of friends since she’s only been here a month, so I’m glad you asked Lydia to start talking to her. I knew you were nicer than everyone always says.”

Jackson’s jaw tightened, and his knuckles cracked as he clenched the steering wheel. “People say I’m not nice?”

McCall laughed. “Well, yeah. Don’t tell me you’ve been trying to be nice this whole time.”

“Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t. It’s none of your concern.” Jackson backed the car out of the parking spot and headed onto the street.

“I figured you were just socially awkward. I mean, I am too, so—”

“I’m not socially awkward,” Jackson said between gritted teeth. But then again, maybe he was. He hadn’t grown up in the normal family environment. He’d been trained to kill people since his preteen days. His worldview was definitely skewed. He was taught not to show weakness, not to hesitate. To look for vulnerabilities that he could use against people.

 _You never know who will be a target_ , his father always said. _It’s good to observe everyone, even those who seem most innocent. Especially those who seem most innocent._

That had made it impossible for Jackson to make real friends. He had tried twice. Once with his neighbor across the street, Isaac Lahey, and once with his classmate, Danny Mahealani. He and Danny were sort of friends, but he couldn’t bring himself to trust him. Danny seemed innocent on the surface, but he spent his free time hacking websites and hooking up with strangers. Who knows what trouble he could get himself into—or cause, if he wanted to.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” McCall said.

Jackson gave him a funny look. He still couldn’t figure out McCall. One moment he’d be fighting back as Jackson insulted him. The next he was riding with him to get tacos, acting like nothing happened. Was he really so forgiving? Did he live in this imaginary world where everyone had good in them?

He almost felt bad that McCall would soon get a wake-up call. Jackson wasn’t good. And naively trusting him was going to get him killed. That is, if Allison didn’t get to him first. Though, he had a hard time believing she was actually an assassin. His mother thought everyone was an assassin, even Coach Finstock, which was so utterly unbelievable that Jackson didn’t know where to start.

“So, you and Allison, huh?” Jackson said, nudging McCall’s shoulder. Casual bro talk. That would surely ease the tension.

“We’re not dating.”

“But you like her, right?”

McCall nodded, looking at his lap as he smiled. “She’s really nice.”

“And cute,” Jackson said as he observed McCall in the mirror. He had such a nice smile—his eyes crinkled, and his cheeks widened.

It had seemed silly before to be so unashamedly happy that he could just smile like that, blissfully unaware of the dangers around him. But now Jackson kind of envied it. He couldn’t think of a time he’d smiled like that—or a time he’d ever just let himself be happy. Maybe a few times with Lydia, but he’d still had the instinct to tamp it down, or hide his smile behind a smirk.

“Yeah, that too.” McCall met his eyes in the mirror, and Jackson hurriedly flicked his gaze back to the road.

Both boys went quiet. Jackson reached over to change the radio station at the same time McCall reached over to turn up the volume. Their hands brushed briefly.

A shiver ran up and down Jackson’s spine. He quickly hit the button for the rock station and put his hand back on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly. His hands seemed to be frozen on the wheel. He became hyper focused on the road ahead, anything to stop him from thinking unnecessary thoughts.

McCall was a target. This friendship was fake. It was a trap that he was setting to lure McCall into a false sense of security. He couldn’t let himself become real friends with him. That was another one of his parents’ rules. _Get close to your target, but never so close that you start to care for them._

How the hell did he go from being unable to hold back his nasty comments around McCall to wanting to spend more time with him? This didn’t make any damn sense. Jackson had half a mind to drop McCall off at his house with some lame excuse about forgetting he had a family dinner or something. Time to clear his head would do him a world of good. But this opportunity was too good, and if he dropped McCall now, he might not get another chance.

\---

The Mexican restaurant was small and decorated in bright yellows, reds, and greens. Jackson had only been there a few times before with Danny. His parents would have turned up their noses at the establishment. They made good money as assassins, so they had developed a taste for fine-dining.

Jackson considered cheap tacos to be his guilty pleasure. He’d definitely need to pop a breath mint before going home though. If his parents caught a whiff of taco breath, they’d be complaining about it for weeks.

The hostess said they could sit anywhere they liked, so Jackson picked a booth in the back corner behind a half wall with cactus plants on it. He didn’t particularly want to be seen here.

It wasn’t until he was sitting down across from McCall that he realized how romantic this section of the restaurant was. The lighting was dim, and a candle in a jar was placed in the middle of the table.

“I’ll take a bottle of mineral water,” Jackson said when the waitress asked for their drink order.

He caught McCall chuckling before he asked for a root beer.

Jackson was grateful for the dim lights. Hopefully it would hide the embarrassment turning his cheeks an ugly shade of red. He happened to like mineral water, thank you very much.

As soon as the waitress arrived with their drinks, he took a long gulp from the bottle. It helped to relax him so he could focus on the task at hand.

“So, you and Lydia used to date, huh?”

For a second, Jackson thought McCall was mocking his earlier statement about McCall’s interest in Allison. But when he looked at him, he saw the boy was genuinely curious.

“Uh, yeah. We did.”

“Why didn’t that work out?”

And McCall called _him_ socially awkward? You don’t just bring up past relationships out of the blue. They weren’t even friends yet. “It’s none of your business, McCall.” Jackson winced at the sharpness of his tone. “I—I just don’t like to talk about it, okay?”

McCall nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up. I just wanted to confirm that you weren’t dating her anymore.”

“Why the hell does that matter?” Jackson raised an eyebrow, then his jaw dropped. “Wait a second. I thought you were interested in Allison, but you’re interested in Lydia? If so, she’s a handful. I don’t think you’d be able to keep up with her.”

“That’s not what I meant,” McCall said, shaking his head. “Stiles likes her, so I was just asking for him. Oh god. I shouldn’t have said that. He’ll kill me if he knows I told you.”

“I highly doubt that.” Jackson studied McCall closely. He was fidgeting with the silverware, and his eyes were fixed on the menu sitting on the table. He was embarrassed, but Jackson wasn’t sure why. It couldn’t be because he accidently revealed Stilinski’s super obvious crush. It had to be something else.

“Stilinski can try going for Lydia, but I doubt she’d be interested in him. She’s got something of a refined palette.”

“Oh?” McCall looked disappointed.

It took Jackson a moment to figure out why. “By refined palette I mean she only dates rich guys. So, like, Stilinski wouldn’t even show up on her radar.”

“What about you?” McCall asked.

“Well, obviously I was on her radar. We dated for several months.”

“No, I mean, do you also have a refined palette?” McCall made air quotes around the last two words, but he didn’t seem to be mocking Jackson, more the idea of a refined palette.

Jackson shrugged. “Not really. I don’t care what people think of me.” That wasn’t entirely true. He didn’t care what people at school thought of him, but he did care about what his parents thought.

“That’s good. I wish I didn’t care so much about that stuff. I feel like people expect me to date Allison, but what if I want to date someone else?”

“Lydia?”

“Not Lydia.”

“But someone like Lydia.”

“Yeah,” McCall said. “I mean, people probably wouldn’t understand it, right?”

Jackson shrugged, picking up his menu. He didn’t really need to browse it. He knew what he wanted. But he just needed something to look at other than the earnest expression on McCall’s face. He didn’t like seeing him so sad. It made his chest feel tight and filled him with a strange desire to comfort him.

“I don’t think it’s as big a deal as you’re making it out to be,” Jackson said coolly.

“Are you sure?” McCall said.

Jackson set down his menu, annoyed, and fixed McCall with a stare. “Honestly. People don’t care as much as you think they do.”

McCall smiled, even brighter than he had earlier in the car. It almost hurt to look at him. Screw that. It did hurt. It was excruciating. How the hell was he supposed to kill this ray of sunshine?

“Thank you for saying that,” McCall said. His voice was too earnest.

“Yeah, whatever. I was just stating the truth.” Jackson raised a hand to call the waitress over.

They placed their orders, and the waitress took away his primary method of distraction. Bye bye, menu. So Jackson started picking up the multicolored sweetener packets and studying the ingredients.

“I’m surprised that you knew about this place,” McCall said to break the silence. He looked around at ukuleles and paintings on the yellow walls, then back at Jackson. “I didn’t think you’d like Mexican food.”

Jackson snorted. “Are you kidding? Mexican is great. Sometimes our chef makes tamales from scratch. They are to die for.”

McCall laughed, a whole body-shaking laugh. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not surprising that you have a chef. I’m just surprised that we have more in common than I thought.”

Jackson’s hint of a smile faded. No. McCall was wrong. They had nothing in common. Liking the same kind of food didn’t mean jack.

“Do you play video games?” McCall asked.

“Are these walls yellow?”

“You do! Well, maybe we could play together sometime. I don’t have a lot of games, but pretty much all the ones I do have are multiplayer.”

Jackson couldn’t believe that McCall was inviting him over already. This mission was too easy. McCall was too trusting. He shouldn’t even be on the stupid hit list!

“Really, McCall? A guy like you enjoys fighting in video games?” Jackson raised an eyebrow. He’d show McCall that they had nothing in common.

McCall smirked. “I’m better at it than I look. Stiles is pretty into competition, so I’ve gotten a lot of practice.”

Jackson didn’t know why, but it irked him that McCall had mentioned Stilinski again. He knew the pair were practically inseparable, but did he have to keep finding excuses to bring him up in conversation?

“Well, I doubt you can top my scores,” Jackson said because he couldn’t help himself. He had a competitive streak too, and he was certain it was much fiercer than Stilinski’s.

“Is that an invitation?”

“Next friday after school. Your place?”

“Deal.”

\---

Jackson shouldn’t have taken the bait. He should have lied, pretended that video games were childish and stupid. Anything to keep him away from Scott McCall. But now here he sat on the couch in McCall’s living room, game controller in hand, waiting for McCall to finish ordering a pizza on the phone.

He hadn’t told his parents about this new development. They’d give him a million ideas on how to kill McCall, and all Jackson wanted to do was whip his ass at video games. McCall was harmless. Jackson was convinced he was put on the hit list by mistake. The Argents had him confused for someone else. Simple as that.

All Jackson had to do was prove it. He had no idea how, but spending more time with McCall was bound to help with that. Or make it a hundred times worse.

God, he was so conflicted. To kill or not to kill. To befriend or to be enemy. Okay, Jackson was pretty sure that wasn’t how the Shakespeare verses went, but he was having a hard time thinking of a similar situation from literature. No one ever tried to assassinate a harmless idiot. It just wasn’t worth the money or effort.

“Hey, so want to fight zombies?” McCall asked as he walked back into the room. He plopped down on the couch, so close to Jackson that their thighs brushed.

“Sure,” Jackson said. He stretched, trying to casually shift his leg, but as he did that, McCall moved his legs so he was even closer to Jackson. Did this guy have no sense of personal space?

Thankfully, the zombie fighting was distracting enough. Jackson soon forgot about how close McCall was sitting to him and got lost in the game. McCall won the first round, killing a dozen more zombies than Jackson, but Jackson made sure to redeem himself during the second round, slaughtering three times that.

The pizza arrived, and they took a break from gaming to eat it, sprawling out on the ground next to the coffee table. McCall was leaning on his side, supporting himself with one hand and picking up pizza slices with the other. Jackson sat against the couch, his legs stretched out, with a pizza slice in each hand.

McCall chuckled.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “What is it this time, McCall? Surprised I eat pizza with my hands? Did you expect me to pull out a fork and knife, treat it like bluefin tuna? I’m not _that_ rich.”

McCall just smiled wider.

“You think I’m spoiled, don’t you?”

“You are spoiled,” McCall pointed out.

“Well, yeah. I’m a Whittemore.”

McCall twirled a pepper he’d picked off his pizza slice. “Do you ever get that feeling where you want to be someone else? Just for a day. Just so you can see what it’s like not to be yourself.”

Jackson frowned. Of course he felt like that. He always wondered what it would be like to live a normal life. What it would be like if his parents had survived the car crash and he’d never become a Whittemore. What it would be like not to be the son of two highly skilled assassins.

It sounded easier, for sure. He wouldn’t have been rich, wouldn’t have been taught to distrust everyone, wouldn’t have isolated himself so much from the rest of the world. He might even be as naïve as McCall, able to smile genuinely whenever he wanted.

Sometimes he wished he didn’t know about the darker side of the world. But he couldn’t change the past. He was stuck in this life now, and he’d have a hard time leaving it if he ever tried. It was one of the unfortunate side effects of wanting to please his parents, of wanting to be good enough.

“Do _you_ think about that a lot?” Jackson asked instead of answering the question. If there was one thing he was good at, it was deflecting.

McCall ate the pepper, considering, then said, “Yeah. I often wonder what’s it like to be Jackson Whittemore.” McCall grinned at him, then adjusted his posture to match Jackson’s. He was close to him again, back against the couch, his foot almost touching Jackson’s.

“It’s not as fun as it looks.” Jackson bit his tongue, wishing he hadn’t said that. He hurried to finish off his slices of pizza, then licked his fingers.

When he looked up, McCall hurriedly looked away.

Jackson wiped his hands on a napkin and tossed it onto the coffee table, crumpled. He reached into his pocket and popped a breath mint into his mouth.

“Can I have one?” McCall asked.

Jackson tossed one to him, and McCall’s face lit up. He looked so much like a puppy who’d been given a treat.

“So this is what it’s like to be Jackson Whittemore. Pizza and breath mints.”

Jackson bit his lip to try to suppress his grin, but McCall noticed and smiled wider. Jackson lost it then. He started laughing and had to cross his arms to keep his body from shaking.

McCall reached a hand towards Jackson.

“What? Do I have crumbs on my face?” Jackson asked, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

McCall rested his hand on Jackson’s shoulder, then traced it up his neck until his fingers were threaded through the short hairs at the back of his head.

Jackson was frozen, eyes locked with McCall’s. His swallow sounded loud to his ears, and he could feel his blood pounding, his heartrate speeding.

McCall played with his hair for a moment, the rest of him frozen as if his body hadn’t quite caught up to his hand.

Jackson wondered if he should move, wondered what the hell was happening, and why didn’t he want it to stop? Why wasn’t he pushing McCall away? Jackson traced his hand up McCall’s back, pulling him closer, which finally triggered a reaction in McCall.

As if Jackson had hit the unpause button, McCall dove in for the kiss. His lips were soft, minty flavored. Jackson dug his hands through McCall’s hair and kissed his smiling lips, biting gently at his lower lip.

“Is this really happening?” McCall asked, his voice so soft Jackson could barely hear it.

“I don’t know,” Jackson admitted. It shouldn’t be happening, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it. Now that he had it, he couldn’t even bring himself to pull away. If his parents saw him now, they’d be so ashamed. You weren’t supposed to care about your mark, and you sure as hell weren’t supposed to make out with them in their living room.

McCall pulled away suddenly, the loss of contact almost physically painful to Jackson. McCall put his hands on Jackson’s shoulders. “I just want to be clear here, okay? I like you, like a lot. So, I only want this”—he gestured between them—“if you like me too.”

They’d only been hanging out for a week, but he supposed after studying McCall for a month, he’d come to learn a lot about him. Sure McCall was stupid and naïve, but his kindness and silly jokes made Jackson feel like the world still had some good in it. He wanted to spend more time in McCall’s world, become more involved with him.

“Damn it, McCall. Of course I like you.” Jackson initiated the kiss this time. Every soft lingering touch, every warm brush of skin against skin, filled him with bliss. He wasn’t used to feeling like this. He’d taught himself never to indulge, never to get close enough to someone to let them in. He’d been vulnerable once before with Lydia and look where that had gotten him. He _shouldn’t_ let this happen.

But he couldn’t stop.

“So, when you said you liked someone like Lydia, you meant me?” Jackson asked.

McCall laughed. “Yeah. I was worried I was being too obvious.”

“You weren’t.” Jackson trailed kisses down McCall’s neck, then across his jaw.

They didn’t go back to playing video games.

\---

Jackson couldn’t believe he now had a secret boyfriend. The secret part was a given. Anyone that wasn’t preapproved by his parents had to be a secret. The boyfriend part was unexpected, but he wasn’t about to waste precious time worrying about that new development. He could bi or pan or whatever, not a big deal.

McCall thankfully wanted to keep it a secret too, but he said he wanted to come out as bi to his friends. As long as he left Jackson out of it, he didn’t see any problems with that.

Now if Jackson came out, he’d have guys flocking to him. Who wouldn’t want to get with a Whittemore? Come on. They’d be begging for him. So of course the only person he told was Danny. And of course Danny wasn’t at all surprised.

Over the next few weeks, Jackson and Scott (he’d started calling him that instead of his last name) snuck around town. They had their few public dates in unpopular restaurants, even went ice skating once. They restricted making out to Jackson’s car or Scott’s house. His mother often worked odd hours at the hospital, so she was gone from the house a lot.

Jackson could only take him home after school a couple days a week to avoid suspicion. Besides, Scott didn’t want his friendship with Stilinski to suffer because of their relationship.

Oddly enough, Jackson ended up spending a lot more time with Danny than before. It was more comfortable, perhaps because he now had one less secret to keep with him. He knew that Danny accepted him, and he was happy to play Danny’s wingman if he ever needed one.

He saw that Danny kept his secret, and that made him start to trust him, for real this time. It was an important step in their friendship, and he was happy (and honestly quite relieved) to have that for once in his life.

Danny even helped educate him about gay sex so that he would be prepared for his first time with Scott. He wasn’t sure where Scott got his information—Stilinski had probably done all the research for him—but he’d definitely gotten it from somewhere. He was prepared. Their first time wasn’t as awkward as he had feared it would be, and it was nice to add more than just kissing and touching to their evening repertoire.

\---

To celebrate one month together, Jackson brought Scott to a spot in the woods, where he’d laid out a picnic blanket and fresh tamales from his personal chef.

“You were serious. These tamales are amazing,” Scott said midway through his first one.

Jackson laughed. It was both disgusting and adorable when Scott tried to talk while eating. “I told you.”

Afterwards, in typical Jackson style, they both had breath mints. Jackson pushed Scott gently back onto the blanket and started kissing him. Scott had made a playlist for them and the music played from his phone. Slow, romantic music, not the fast, sexy tunes Jackson would have chosen. He appreciated the thought. Besides, it was nice to have a slow, quiet night with Scott.

He barely noticed when the crickets started chirping and the sun faded behind the horizon, then Scott sat up abruptly. “It’s dark already?” He sounded panicked.

“Yeah, what’s wrong? I thought your mom worked late tonight. You don’t have to worry about curfew, right?”

“It’s not that, but we need to leave. Now.” Scott looked scared, eyes wide and palms trembling.

Jackson had never seen him like this before. He hurriedly packed up the blanket and stuffed it and the trash into the basket he’d brought. Scott kept checking his phone, moving from foot to foot, clearly anxious about something.

“What’s going on?” Jackson asked.

“It’s nothing.” Scott linked his arm through Jackson’s. “Come on. Let’s head back to your car.”

They walked at a faster pace than usual, the silence creating tension between them. Jackson refrained from asking Scott about what was bothering him again. He’d wait until they were in the car and on the way home. Maybe he was afraid of the dark or something.

Scott jerked away from him, putting his hands to his ears. His face was scrunched together in pain. But the forest was dead quiet.

“Are you okay?” Jackson asked.

“We need to move, fast,” Scott said, trudging ahead with his hands still over his ears.

A twig snapped, and Scott spun around. He was looking at Jackson as if he were afraid of him. Wait, no. He was looking behind Jackson.

“Scott McCall,” came a voice.

Jackson turned, slowly and fearfully, to see Chris Argent and half a dozen men carrying crossbows. Some even looked like they had guns strapped to their sides.

Had the Argents given up on him? They’d decided to kill Scott themselves? How dare they! He shouldn’t even be on the stupid hit list.

“Mister Argent,” Scott said between gritted teeth. He was glaring at the older man fiercely. Jackson had never seen him like this before. He got the feeling there was more to this story than he knew.

Argent walked closer to them. His gaze went from the basket in Jackson’s arms to Jackson’s face. He raised his eyebrows, then shook his head. “Jackson Whittemore. Now you are the last person I’d expect to find on a date with Scott McCall.”

Jackson stiffened. “It’s not a date. We were just—”

“Having a late-night picnic? That’s a date.” Argent laughed, but there was no humor to it. “Your parents will be very disappointed in you.” He took another step towards Scott.

Jackson held up his arms. “Wait, you can’t kill him.”

“You’re right. I can’t. But you can.” He nodded to him.

“I’m not going to kill him. He’s done nothing to harm anyone. He’s not dangerous at all. Trust me.”

Argent sidestepped him and grabbed Scott’s arm. A knife slid out of his sleeve, and he slammed it into Scott’s wrist.

Jackson gasped. He was ready to pounce on Argent, forget the other men armed to the teeth. Protect Scott at all costs.

Argent yanked the knife out and slid up Scott’s sleeve. “Take a look for yourself.”

Jackson saw no injury, only a thin layer of smeared blood. “What? How is that—”

“He’s a werewolf,” Argent said. “And my family hunts his kind.”

Jackson looked to Scott for denial, some sign that Argent was just spouting lies.

“I didn’t ask for this. I was bitten against my will,” Scott said, looking so ashamed. “And I’ve never harmed anyone.”

“Yet,” Argent added.

“I’m not going to kill anyone. Jackson, you know me. I’m not a killer. Please believe me.”

Jackson swallowed. He knew Scott was telling the truth, but he felt so blindsided that he wasn’t sure how to respond. Werewolves were real. Scott of all people was a werewolf. Was that how he’d gotten so good at lacrosse so quickly? It wasn’t steroids or any other type of juice, but a bite?

“Jackson, please.”

“I can’t right now, Scott. This is too much.” Tears trickled down Jackson’s cheeks. He gulped, trying to keep his breathing under control, but he couldn’t.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” Scott said.

“No, you shouldn’t have. It’s really good you didn’t.”

“Why is that?”

Argent stepped in. “Because he would have killed you.”

Scott looked from Argent to Jackson in confusion. “What does that mean? You’re a hunter?”

“Worse,” Argent said. “He’s an assassin that my sister Kate hired to kill you.”

Jackson saw Scott’s eyes fill with such sadness that he had to look away. “I won’t kill you, though. I promise. Even if you’re a werewolf or whatever.”

“How can I trust you?” Scott demanded. “Has this whole relationship just been about getting close to me so you could kill me? You saw that I liked you and used it to your advantage. I can’t believe you!”

“It wasn’t like that. I wanted to see if you were dangerous. That’s why I spent time with you. I’d decided not to kill you by the time we started dating.”

Scott backed up. “No. I don’t believe you.” He turned tail and ran.

Argent grabbed Jackson’s arm to stop him from running after him.

“Let me go!” Jackson yelled.

“Oh, believe me, I would. I’d love to see Scott finally harm a human, so we could deal with things properly, but I promised your parents I’d look out for you.”

“I just want to talk to him.”

Argent shook his head. “You can’t talk to him now. Werewolves are influenced by their emotions. They become irrational. Many even go into a murderous rage. You’d best stay away from him for a while.”

“Fine,” Jackson said, jerking his arm out of Argent’s grasp.

“I also promised your parents I would never lie to them, so we’re going to head to your house, and I’m going to tell your parents about you and Scott.”

“You can’t,” Jackson said, but his voice didn’t have the same fire as before. “They’ll kill me. And I don’t mean that figuratively. They will _literally_ kill me.”

Argent sighed. “Okay, I won’t tell them. But you have to stop seeing Scott.”

“That won’t be a problem. He wants nothing to do with me, no thanks to you.”

“You don’t understand now, but you will one day. It’s a terrible burden to have to kill someone you love. And that’s what would have happened if he’d stayed in the dark. Your parents would have talked you into doing it.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“My parents were hunters. They’ve convinced me to do things I never thought I would, things I still regret to this day. But that comes with the job. Just as killing comes with yours.”

“I’m not sure I want to be an assassin anymore.”

Argent pursed his lips, a deep sadness in his eyes. “It won’t be easy to get out of this life. You can start by telling them to pass the mission on to someone else.”

“I can’t do that,” Jackson said, gritting his teeth.

“You can’t keep caring for someone who doesn’t want you to be their savior.”

Jackson clenched his fists, anger coursing through his veins. “Can’t you just tell your sister to take him off the damn list?”

“I can try,” Argent said. “But you don’t know Kate. I doubt she’ll agree to that. I’ve been doing everything I can to stop her from breaking the code and killing him outright herself.”

“The code?”

“The hunters’ code. _We hunt those who hunt us._ We can only kill Scott once he’s harmed someone. That’s why my sister hired you. She’s trying to bend the rules. I don’t approve of it, but there’s not much I can do about it right now.”

Jackson scuffed his foot against the ground, watching a rock skitter across the grass.

“You should head home,” Argent said.

Jackson nodded. “Night.”

He didn’t head home. He went to Danny’s house and spent the next hour crying. Danny said he knew the perfect cure for a breakup. They went to Jungle, got drunk, and danced with each other. Jackson wasn’t ready to flirt with anyone new, but he did enjoy the attention he was getting from male onlookers.

When his parents asked him how the mission was going the next day, he said he was getting close. Jackson worried his parents would complain about how long he was taking, but his mother explained that some missions just took longer. Assassins had to be careful about it. They couldn’t leave evidence that could get them arrested. That took planning, building trust, and having the skills to cover it up.

\---

Two weeks passed in silence.

Scott avoided his gaze in the hallways. He left as soon as practice ended. He always had Stiles or Allison or Lydia around him, like he was afraid to be alone. And why wouldn’t he be? He’d learned that his boyfriend was an assassin hired to kill him.

Jackson knew dating him was a bad idea. He should have stayed away, or at least pushed him away when Scott kissed him. Scott had given him the perfect out too: I only want this if you like me too. He could have said he didn’t like Scott. That would’ve been so easy.

And yet, he knew he wouldn’t have done it. Being with Scott had felt so right in that moment. It still felt right, even though he knew it was impossible now.

Jackson managed to go two more weeks without speaking to Scott. He might have gone longer if he’d been allowed to forget about him. The constant reminder from his parents that he was supposed to kill him made that impossible.

During lunchtime, Jackson approached Scott and his friends. They were sitting outside at one of the benches.

“Sco—” Jackson cleared his throat. “McCall. Can I have a word?”

Stilinski lifted his arm in disbelief. “Now you want to talk to him? Dude, it’s been like a month since you’ve spoken. You’re a shitty friend.”

“Stiles, don’t,” Scott said.

Jackson was surprised. Would Scott actually hear him out? “Walk with me?”

Scott shook his head. “Anything you can say to me, you can say to my friends.”

“Okay,” Jackson said slowly, looking around at the group. This was so intimidating. Stiles and Lydia were two of the biggest gossips at school. If he said what he wanted to say, the whole school would know by the end of the day.

“Well, if you’ve got nothing, then leave me alone,” Scott said. It was strange though because he looked disappointed, like he wanted him to say something.

Jackson stood up straighter. He’d been miserable all month. Screw his reputation. Screw his parents finding out. He’d already botched this mission in the worst way possible. “I’m sorry,” Jackson said.

“Sorry isn’t enough,” Scott said.

“Wow,” Lydia said, stunned. “You guys don’t understand. Jackson never apologizes. For anything. Ever. Hear him out, Scott.”

Scott sighed, tugging on his hoodie zipper. “Okay, what else?”

Jackson dug his hands into his pockets, feeling embarrassed. “What I did was wrong, but I was telling the truth. I do care about you. I wasn’t pretending to be your friend just so I could hurt you.”

“You did more than hurt me,” Scott argued.

“I know,” Jackson said. “And I’m really torn up about it, okay? I didn’t want to hurt you at all. I know, I know. I’m the world’s shittiest boyfriend.”

“You’re just figuring that out now,” Stilinski muttered, then froze, his jaw dropping. “Wait, boyfriend?”

“I knew it!” Lydia squealed, bouncing in her seat. “Called it. Totally called that.”

Allison laughed, clapping hands with Lydia.

“Jackson?” Stilinski asked in disbelief, sounding betrayed. “You couldn’t at least date someone sweet like Danny or that Isaac guy?”

Scott looked at Allison and Lydia. “You guys don’t care that I dated Jackson?”

“Nope,” Lydia said.

“I think it’s sweet.” Allison smiled at Scott. “And I’m glad you’re not dating Isaac, because I’m kind of hoping he’ll ask me to winter formal.”

“Well, I care,” Stilinski said. “Doesn’t anyone care about my feelings?”

Scott turned to him, and the hurt eyes triggered a stream of apologies from Stilinski.

“Scott, you know I didn’t mean it like that. All I’m saying is that you have poor judgment of who is good boyfriend material.”

“You jealous, Stilinski?” Jackson cut in. He’d always suspected Stilinski had a crush on Scott.

“I’m not,” he said. “Scott’s like my brother. I don’t want— You know what, I don’t even know why I’m explaining this to you. Apparently, you did something awful to break Scott’s heart. He’s been this shell of a person for the past few weeks.” Stilinski gestured dramatically to Scott. “And you, you did that to him. So, no, I don’t approve of this. Any of this.”

Jackson nodded. “You’re right. I deserve to be hated. Sorry for wasting your time, Scott.” He turned to leave, but a hand gripped his elbow.

It was Lydia. She nodded to Scott.

Jackson glanced back at him and saw that Scott had stood up, his hand outstretched. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to be casual about it, but it was obvious he’d been about to stop Jackson too.

“How about you two talk alone?” Lydia said, her strawberry blond curls flouncing as she gestured from Scott to Jackson. “We’ll just stand over there.” She pointed across the lawn.

“Uh, no. Didn’t you just hear what Jackson said? About hurting Scott? I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave these two alone,” Stilinski protested, standing up to guard Scott.

Jackson admired how much he cared about his friend. It was smart to try to protect Scott from him. He was trained to kill after all. Only Stilinski seemed able to detect the dangers, even before he’d been distrusting of Jackson. Maybe it had something to do with growing up as the sheriff’s son.

Anyways, Jackson knew when to quit. He should just leave it at that, go back to being miserable. Scott didn’t want to talk to him, plain and simple.

“It’s okay,” Scott said. “I don’t mind being alone with you.”

Jackson couldn’t decide who was more surprised—him or Stilinski.

Lydia and Allison dragged Stilinski away, and then it was just Scott and Jackson. They sat down on opposite ends of the bench. Scott tapped his leg and scratched his head. Jackson spun his phone between his fingers, not sure what to say now that they were alone.

“So, you’re an assassin,” Scott said. Well, that was one way to start it.

“So, you’re a werewolf,” Jackson countered.

Scott’s lips twitched, as if he wanted to smile, but he folded his hands together. “How many people have you killed?”

“None,” Jackson said. “You were my first target.”

“Were?”

Jackson reached across the bench and gripped Scott’s hand. “I can’t kill you, Scott.”

Scott pulled his hand away. “But will you kill other people?”

Jackson shook his head. “No. I’m quitting the family occupation.”

“Are you allowed to? That sounds like something you’re sort of born into.”

“If they don’t let me quit, I’ll run away. I’m tired of being so paranoid, of not making real friends because my parents say I can’t trust anyone. I trust you, Scott. And I want to be friends with your friends too.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it?”

Scott smiled softly. “Yeah. It doesn’t need to be complicated. I’ve been miserable without you. Danny said you’ve been depressed all month.”

“Danny?”

“Yeah, I checked in on you a few times. I told him not to tell you.”

“You told Danny that we dated?”

Scott shook his head. “I’m pretty sure he figured it out though. Last time I spoke to him, he told me to forgive you for whatever crappy thing you’d done. He said you didn’t mean it and that you had a good heart.”

Jackson smiled, touched by his friend’s words.

“I guess Danny doesn’t know you’re an assassin.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyways. I was the worst assassin imaginable. Falling for your target is a big no-no.” Jackson laughed. He was relieved that Scott laughed along with him. “So, can we be friends again?” he asked.

“Friends?” Scott seemed surprised. “That’s all you want?”

“I think after everything I’ve done that’s all I deserve. Actually, I don’t even deserve that. You should take Stilinski’s advice and never talk to me again.”

Scott laughed. “But I want to talk to you. I’ve missed you, Jackson. That night in the woods was totally messed up. You should have been free to tell me in your own time.”

“Thanks. So does this mean you want to date again?”

Scott leaned over and kissed Jackson, a quick peck on the lips. “Yes. But this time we tell people about it. I’d like to be able to go places other than the woods for dates.”

“Agreed,” Jackson said, nodding.

“So, what happens with this assassin thing? If you back out, will someone else come after me?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

Scott laughed, shoving Jackson playfully. “I’m well equipped to protect myself. Remember I’m a werewolf.”

“Oh, really? I thought you just had some magic healing ability. You’ll have to show me more sometime.”

“I’ll show you right now if you want.”

Scott grabbed Jackson’s hand and pulled Jackson across campus. He refused to tell him where they were going. As Scott pulled him into the locker room, Jackson felt a rush of excitement.

Scott pushed Jackson against the lockers.

Jackson grinned. “I like where this is going.”

Scott’s eyes flashed gold, like glowing gold. “What do you think?”

“I think they’re beautiful. And you are unbelievably sexy. God, I missed you.”

Scott held up his fist, then opened it. His fingernails were now claws.

“Okay, those are not so beautiful.”

“Let’s see how they feel.” Scott ran his hand under Jackson’s shirt and up his back.

Jackson shivered with pleasure. “That I could get used to.”

The door banged open, startling them, and Coach Finstock came striding in with his clipboard. He didn’t glance up until he was alongside them.

“Jackson, McCall. Keep it PG-13 in the locker rooms. You can do the other stuff at home or in your cars or wherever it is you kids go these days.” Then he just walked into his office as if nothing had happened.

Jackson and Scott exchanged a look, then burst out laughing. “He’s right. We probably should go,” Scott said. “We’ve got to reassure Stiles that you haven’t murdered me, right?”

“Fine, but I get you after school.”

“You can have me whenever you want, Jackson Whittemore. As long as I get to have you too.”

Jackson laughed, biting his lip. “Of course you can have me, Scott. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
